The Half-Blood
by vvGirlNextDoor889vv
Summary: Percy Jackson is confused. One minute he's in Central Park with Annabeth, and the next-BANG! He's with 3 teenagers he's never met before. Harry Potter is shocked. What year is it? And who exactly is Hecate? Annabeth Chase is determined. She's going to hunt down those who took away her Percy. Ron and Hermione are puzzled. Was it just them, or did the new boy look like Harry?
1. I : Percy

My definition of fun wasn't meeting maniacs who used wooden sticks as weapons. But naturally, it _had_ to happen.

I was sitting on the same old wooden bench I had sat for years whenever I came to Central Park. Annabeth laid her head on my shoulder while she slept. While Annabeth was out, hopefully sleeping peacefully and not dreaming about the-end-of-the-world sort of dreams that never seemed to make sense: We weren't even seventeen yet. Couldn't the Fates give us a chance to live a life that made sense?

I felt Annabeth wake up. She said, "What's going on?"

I was confused. "What," I said, "do you mean?"

She screwed up her face. "I don't know. I've had a vision telling me to prepare for something. The woman in the vision told me to wake up because something important was going to happen soon."

Her answer, which I hoped would clear things, just made me more confused than ever. "Say it again, Wise Girl. I don't have your intelligence."

Annabeth laughed, and I pretended to scowl. Poor brain of mine!

Suddenly, a change came to Central Park. The birds stopped chirping, the leaves on the trees stopped swaying lazily in the cool, gentle breeze. I wasn't disturbed about this. Plenty of crazy stuff like this had happened to me already. In the sixteen short years of my life, I had faced down snake women, dogs that looked murderous enough to kill me and my friends, bull-men, lions with spiked tails that hurt a lot when it touched your skin, (which, by the way, is not something I'd recommend to you to try) demon birds, crazy flying pigs, (which really made me want to eat roasted pig so much so as to have my revenge against them: eating their relative) and one-eyed giants who are so not like my brother Tyson. I merely thought this was Nico di Angelo, our friend who sometimes visited us to give us the latest news, like souls escaping, (whee!) monsters of old being reborn, (oh, shoot!) and gods getting weak.

But Nico's lanky figure didn't appear. I even looked around twice. No twelve year old kid waiting for me to notice him. No sign that something bad had happened.

Annabeth punched me in the shoulder to get my attention. "What are you looking for? A new girlfriend?" She scowled at me.

The truth was, I wasn't looking for a new girlfriend. Boys, if you're reading this, well, let me just tell you that Annabeth is the best girlfriend ever, and even if she wasn't, she'd still let you pay for it if you did so much as glance at a pretty (or hot!) girl.

The sky turned stormy, as if to say, _Hey, kid, watch out for something that's gonna happen._

A boy, a girl, and another boy appeared near us. They would have looked comical if they hadn't had something suspiciously like sticks pointed at our faces. Those sticks looked sharp enough to dislodge an eyeball, and were not something I normally wanted my eyeballs get too friendly with.

One of the boys, who had red hair, yelled something like "Stupe-die!" still pointing his stick at Annabeth. Then, I looked at him strangely as his stick made Annabeth gasp, then pass out.

I stood up, my hands outstretched, and walked towards them. I noticed that the red-haired guy was taller than me by about three inches, which seriously disturbed me. I doubted I could knock him out in a fight.

He spoke menacingly to the others. "Let's take this git out and leave."

The black-haired one, the one with the rather thin face and green eyes like mine, though his were slightly darker, spoke up. "Shut up, Ron. Now who are you?" he demanded, looking straight at me. We were of the same height, though, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to put up much of a fight if I attacked him. I thought he was crazy for asking me who I was.

"None of your business. Now explain to me why my girlfriend is unconscious, and why you made her so. Or I'll stick this pen through you, I don't really care where, and I promise you won't remember it like you remember your birthdays."

The girl spoke up. "Are you a wizard?"

I laughed harshly. "That's a stupid question. Is your mother a goddess? Hecate?"

"Who's Hecate?" The two boys asked in unison.

Surprising me, the girl answered. "Oh, Harry, Ron, honestly, don't you two read? Hecate is the legendary Greek goddess of magic, but she isn't real!"

"Neither are you," I said, seriously offended. Hey, if they said Hecate wasn't real, then what was I? A human being gifted by someone-whom-I-don't-know?

The red-haired one looked at me like he wanted to knock me out like he did with Annabeth. "Excuse me?"

"You're half-bloods, you three," I blurted out. They looked at me, stunned.

"Actually, Hermione here," the black-haired one indicated the girl, "is a Muggle-born. Ron's a pure-blood. But I'm a half-blood. Is that what you mean?"

"No, no, you're a half-blood," I tried to insist. I was getting annoyed at the black-haired guy, who didn't even yell nor do something I would normally have done when I was confronted with that situation. "Son of Hecate, are you?"

The boy sighed. Clearly, he was frustrated with me. I was afraid, for a moment, that he might do to me what his friend had done to Annabeth. Then he spoke, again.

"No, I am not. I'm a wizard."

"I'm a son of a Greek god and a mortal woman."

At the sound of my voice the girl raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? But aren't Greek gods supposed to be legendary?"

"You're a legend," I pointed out to her. "Witches and wizards don't exist."

"Oh yes, they do. We're here, are we?" The freckled one, the one with the red hair, said, clearly in a barely suppressed rage.

"Great. You're a half-blood, I'm sure of it. Now come with me to camp. Wait, how did you guys end up here, and where do you come from?"

The guy with the dark hair laughed. "We come from a war, half-blood, as you call yourself. A war where Greek gods don't exist, where they can't hope to win. Come on, Ron, Hermione, we're leaving. I don't see why we Apparated here. Have you been here, Hermione?"

The girl named Hermione said _yes_ in a very small voice. The guy with that flaming hair rolled his eyes at me and said, "Let's Apparate back there" in a very low voice, not wanting me to hear. Of course, I heard it, though I pretended like I hadn't.

Suddenly, they looked like they were travelling through air. Their images blurred, and for a second I thought I was crazy, but then my impulse was, of course, grab the nearest one, which turned out to be the girl-Hermione. Just my luck. Then we vanished into nothingness.

I landed hard on my feet, in an unfamiliar place. My best guess was that I was thousands of miles away from New York, which was bad. So was the fact that my girlfriend did not know where I was. In fact, nobody except the trio I just met seemed to know where I was.

When I landed, I fell right on top of the bushy-haired, brown-haired girl whom the guys referred to as "Hermione." Immediately, as if it was a reflex action, or if "Hermione" was the red-haired guy's Annabeth, the guy pulled me off and threatened me with his stick that I now thought of as a dangerous weapon.

"What are you thinking?" he snarled to my face. Suddenly, I was hit by an invisible force, which hit me so hard I felt like a Teflon pan had hit me on the head five consecutive times.

I yelled, "What did you think of me, jerk?" I didn't mean to add the word _jerk, _but my ADHD got in the way. The words had their immediate effect on the freckled guy. He looked like an angry bull that had been given a lot of blush-on, and it didn't suit him. He put his hands on my shoulder and squeezed it, making me yell in pain. The dark-haired guy who looked a little like me held him back.

"Ron!" He sounded tired, like he'd spent the most of his life holding his friends back or fighting when he knew that he might not win, and immediately the red-haired boy released his grip on me. I rubbed my shoulders, thinking about how lucky I was not to have the blood in there totally stop from being circulated around there. Yeah, since Annabeth's my girlfriend, some of the things she actually tries to teach me about gets stuck in my head. And I don't think it's going to go away 'til college, which is a long time for a demigod, to get killed, to get into trouble, it only depended on the Fates.

Okay, I admit I felt pity for the guy. His eyes told me nearly everything that wasn't immediately obvious: he had suffered and lost people he loved. It was quite clear from the way his shoulders drooped whenever he said a person's name. It was as if he couldn't stand them being hurt or taken away from him. I knew that if this guy was a demigod, his fatal flaw would be like mine.

The silence between us was getting longer and longer. I finally broke it by asking, "Where are we?"

The red-haired guy glared at me with open hostility. "The Burrow."

I thought he was joking. The burrow? The first thing that popped in my mind was a prairie dog burrowing itself in the ground. Hey, don't get too impressed. Annabeth drilled it into my mind after she found out that I didn't even know basic facts about prairie dogs. I only agreed to have it stuck in mind because I didn't want to make her angry by arguing with her and yeah, an angry girlfriend is not something you would want to have, especially when she has a bronze dagger strapped on her belt, reserved for enemies and people who annoyed her, including me.

"What is that, a sort of hideout place for animals?" I regretted saying the words as soon as they came out of my mouth. Now the guy looked like he could have killed me and walked off without any trace of guilt.

The girl looked positively appalled. "No, silly. This is Ron's house."

Now I understood why the guy was angry. It was like calling his mother dumpy or something. I guess he was the good-son type, the son who always seemed to be better than most sons, and that his mom was the great-mom type, and the mom who fit the exact stereotype of a mom: baking cookies and making sandwiches for her children.

"Would you mind telling me why you tagged along with us?" It was the dark-haired guy, speaking to me. I suddenly had the strangest feeling that I was looking into my twin, though with deliberate mistakes. He was skinnier than me, paler, more matured-like than me, and yeah, he looked like he was always in danger, a vulnerable prey.

"I don't know."

"Well, you just grabbed at Hermione and you Apparated with us! A Muggle, Apparating!"

"Hey," I said, incensed, "who you calling a what-did-you-call-me-again?"

"Never you mind. Let's go," the boy said, grabbing the girl's hand and beckoning for the other guy to follow him to the house in the distance.

"WAIT!" I shouted to them, and they froze. "How about me? What will I do? How can I go back?"

The girl, who looked a little like a classmate I once had, said calmly, "I don't think you can go back."

"What do you mean?" My voice sounded hollow and distant.

"I mean you have to stay with us. I'm sorry, but the U.S. is not a safe place for you anymore."

"Why?"

"Because Voldemort- Oh come on now, Ron, get used to it!" she told the bright-haired boy, who had jumped. "Honestly, it's just a name." ("Names have powers," muttered the boy) "Okay, so this is it: Not only does he want to conquer Britain; he wants America too. So you can't go back."

"Who's Voldemort? Why is he so feared?"

"He killed many, that's why! Did you honestly think that he was feared for no reason at all? So, really, you can't go back. You would only endanger yourself."

"But my friends! Camp! My mom! My girlfriend!"

I saw the girl look at her dark-haired companion for a while, and then turn back to me. "Harry here hasn't seen his girlfriend for nearly a year."

"Why?" I interrupted.

"The thing is, we're sort of on the run," clarified the girl whom I had now come to call Hermione. "Voldemort's looking for Harry, because of a prophecy that was made-"

I barely listened to her, because now I knew why the guy looked so sad-looking. A known murderer was looking for him. He was either gonna die, or spend his whole life running away from people who wanted to kill him. Compared to his life, mine seemed pretty normal and stress-free.

I sort of listened to her when she explained everything about their world, but I couldn't understand how they could disappear and then appear from one place to another. I voiced my question out.

"So, how do you Apparate?"

"You aren't a wizard; you wouldn't be able to."

"Then take me back to where I belong."

The guy named Ron, who had so far remained silent, butted in. "You know what? You're a prat. A git. A buffoon. Son of the Sea god eh? Let's see about that." (I had told them of my secret identity) I looked at him. Then I yelled things that were mostly insults and jeers of _Coward!_

"Let's duel, then."

I got my pen out. The guy laughed at me, but his laughter abated when I uncapped it and Riptide materialized. I wanted to say _look who's laughing now,_ but thought better of it. Since I now knew that they were wizards, (I still had a really hard time not thinking of them as children of Hecate) I wondered if my blade could deflect one of their spells. The girl took one look at the sword in my hand and seemed to be intimidated by it.

The girl objected. "Ron, he hasn't got a wand. Besides, under the International Magical Law, wizards are not allowed to brandish their wands against innocent Muggles who haven't hurt them or done anything. I think what he's saying-the Olympian gods-are true."

He scowled. "Oh yeah? Well, I have my own set of rules that I follow. And he isn't an innocent Muggle, thank you very much Hermione."

"Ron, there's a war out here, and we're just standing here, defenseless! Drop the weapons, I say!" The guy named Harry shouted.

"Okay!" He glared at me, but I did my best to ignore him, which wasn't that hard, to be honest.

"Where is this place? South America or somewhere?" I asked them a little too loudly and impatiently. No one answered except the dark-haired guy.

"England."

Now I was confused. I knew England was part of a country, all right, or was it a country? I couldn't tell. Maybe I hadn't been listening when Annabeth told me about it, or maybe my memory's getting worse, probably due to the number of knocks I have received in the head during the past month. I'm going to have to have a doctor check me, though. It's not something you want in your life, especially when you're a half-blood like me.

England did not look as I had previously pictured it. For one, there were no buildings and the clock tower and the place where there were stone what's-its-name-again?

So I walked and talked with them some more. Then I realized we weren't heading towards the shabby little house identified as the Burrow.

"Where are we going?" I asked them. No one spoke, except for the irritable one named Ron, or was he Rod? I'm not sure, though.

"We can't go to my place because they've probably got Death Eaters stationed there or something; it's a risky place to be, especially for us, with Harry and you know, fame and glory and whatever. We're probably the most wanted persons in England."

He wasn't hostile anymore. On the other hand, his news made me feel alarmed. So I was hanging out with a bunch of wanted criminals or whatever they were? Hardened hooligans? Juvenile delinquents? High school dropouts?

I didn't know what the guy meant by Death Eater, but I decided not to ask.

"Okay, guys, where are we going?"

"The Forest of Dean. Our new campsite."

"Why are you taking me there? I mean, you're not gonna hold me as hostage, are you? Hey, I didn't do anything wrong!" I shot at the red-haired guy, who had rolled his eyes at me.

"I didn't say anything," was his shifty reply.

Suddenly I thought of something. "How old are you guys?"

The guy named Harry blinked. "Seventeen."

"Exactly how long have you been seventeen?"

"Since we turned seventeen on our birthdays, which was incidentally last March, the September before last, and last July. Why?" asked the girl.

"Well, I was wondering –you guys don't look like you're from the present, if you ask me. No offense, but what you're wearing 's somewhat –old-fashioned and unacceptable in the society today." Nobody answered me. I talked again.

"Hey, if I'm going camping with you guys, can I like, go to my mom's place first? Because I didn't exactly pack ahead."

"Oh, you're all right with traveling with us? No worries? All right, then, I thought we should make ourselves clear. We traveled her because we were hoping to hunt for Lord Voldemort's Horcruxes. Now these Horcruxes are objects that contain a fragment of a person's soul. We need to destroy them to destroy Voldemort," the girl told me hurriedly.

"Fine, if not my place, then Annabeth's. She's my girlfriend," I looked at Ron while saying the last sentence out loud. For some reason, he was staring at me with a look of total incredulity, as if he couldn't believe that I'd gotten a girlfriend.

"Well, since we don't have food and other supplies, I suppose we could try to go there."

"Excellent!" Harry and Ron hit each other's backs, which must have hurt, but I decided not to comment about it. It proved to be a good decision, because nobody objected when I raised my opinions about the subject again.

"Okay, so let's go, doing whatever-you-were-doing-that-brought-us-here!"

The girl suddenly held hands with me, which made me steal a glance at Ron hurriedly, but his face was impassive, which was a huge relief.

Then we turned into nothing again and, for the second time that day, felt the choking sensation and feeling of oxygen deprivation intensifying every second.

Then my feet hit solid ground. We were standing outside the house of Annabeth Chase, my girlfriend.

"What do you reckon we should do?" Ron asked Harry and Hermione.

"Knock, I suppose," they said together, causing Ron to scowl at the ground and pretend to be looking at his shoelaces.

"You mean ring the doorbell," I said irritably. Sometimes I really wondered if they were even people of the 21st century.

"Oh, right. Yes. That's what we meant," said the girl.

I rang the doorbell. While waiting, Ron and Hermione went off a bit and started talking among themselves. At first I thought they were discussing tactics or something. But then I realized that they were arguing, which was, apparently, a normal thing for them to do every day, every week, every minute, every second. They stepped back and continued their argument.

The guy named Harry stayed behind. Since we were alone, I struck up a conversation with him.

"Where are your parents?"

"Killed. By Voldemort. You?"

"Nah, father's Poseidon, god of the Sea, and mom's Sally Jackson, whom you just prevented me from meeting."

"Sorry." He winced. I was really feeling sorry for this guy.

"So when were you born, all of you?"

"Hermione's on September–"

"No, I mean the year."

"Oh. Me? I was born on July 31, 1980. You?"

I suddenly felt nauseous. Because I realized one thing, but I wasn't about to spill it out. I didn't know him that well, but I didn't want him to be more panicked and scared than he already was. See, that's my good side. The bad side of me spends a lot of time insulting Clarisse and other people who annoy me.

I told him my birthday, but when he asked, "What year?" I couldn't bring myself to tell him. Maybe he'd say I was crazy if I voiced this out, but it seemed to me as if magic had brought them to the present, if that was even possible. I doubt this guy knew who the current American president was, or, incidentally, since we were in England, who the current Prime Minister of England was now.

I only knew things about time machines, how they could somehow "bend" time or whatever and transport the user back or forward, time. Okay, that was one of the lecture books Annabeth had instructed me to read, and besides, a good boyfriend listens to his girlfriend. But even with the knowledge from the books, I still couldn't figure out how this guy and his friends were transported to the present.

The guy named Harry spoke. "The Burrow didn't look this old before. I don't know why it looks as it is now."

I didn't answer, because answering him would mean that I'd have to tell him the truth, and sometimes the truth _did_ hurt. I didn't want to add another reason for the guy not to smile and laugh and relax like an ordinary guy in their place would do.

I looked at the red-haired guy and the bushy-haired girl. Calling them by their names seemed to be so full of FC weirdness, (feeling close) but I had to try. I'd seen how quickly Ron could Stun people, (they'd told me what they'd done to Annabeth) and I did _not_ want to have that spell placed on me.

What was taking the owners of this house so long to answer the doorbell? Maybe he didn't want to show his furry slippers. Maybe he had something (e.g. chest hair or squashed nose) that he didn't want us to see. Or maybe this was a trap.

Through the clear window, I saw, instead of the kindly mother, father, and brothers I had once met a few years back, a man, with eight companions, holding something in their hand.

I barely had time to yell "DUCK!" before the door burst open. Ron and Hermione stopped arguing at once. Then they yelled, "PROTEGO!" Harry included. But Harry, who probably didn't listen to me and therefore failed to stoop down, because after saying the incantation, he said a variety of spells, and I got the feeling quite a few difficult spells were involved. The men who had burst out of the house were holding those wooden sticks I still had trouble believing that they were wands, yelled "STUPEFY!" and the jets of light that issued out of their wands hit the only person left standing, the person I had been talking to prior to all of this.

He fell to the ground, his wand toppling out of his hand as he hit the hard earth. He lay there, unmoving.

Behind me, I heard Hermione scream, a natural thing for girls under pressure to do, and Ron bellowed another curse which I didn't quite catch, which blasted the attackers apart and made them fall to the ground.

Hermione ran forward and kneeled down beside Harry. I braced myself. Even though I barely knew this kid, I wasn't about to just stand back and have the attackers who'd wanted to kill him succeed. It was part of being a demigod. You had the inborn desire to protect.

Together, as if we had read each other's thoughts, Ron and I charged, me with my sword, him with his trusty weapon-of-choice, his wand.


	2. II : Hermione

I knelt down beside Harry. His face was ghostly white, and he wasn't moving. I gulped, remembering when Professor McGonagall had been stunned. She had been hit by four Stunning spells straight to the chest, and she hadn't been exactly that young. Well, Harry was, considerably, younger than McGonagall, but 9 Stunning Spells? That might've been enough to cause some serious damage.

While I fussed over him, Ron and the new boy-we had forgotten to ask his name, fought the attackers. I was surprised at how ready the new boy seemed, how confidently he attacked the people who had Stunned Harry.

Ron was amazing. He shot a Disarming spell at the man nearest him, and the man's wand flew high into the air and, extending an arm, he caught it and threw it to the new boy, who had amazingly good reflexes. Since his sword was on the grass, where he couldn't reach it, he used the wand Ron had thrown him to repeatedly hit the man he was attacking.

If Ron was amazing, he was nothing compared to the new boy. His enemy slashed with his wand, the sort of wand movement I had seen Dolohov make before he knocked me down at the Ministry of Magic-Department of Mysteries, nearly killing me. I pulled my wand out, but the new boy was ready. He was actually quite strong, grabbing the wizard he was attacking and hit him hard on the face and shoulders with the wand, which emitted a few green sparks.

I, meanwhile, was tending to Harry. While he was obviously much more damage-resistant than Professor McGonagall, the combined spells might have been powerful enough to cause some harm. His chest was barely rising, and his face was awfully pale, as pale as it had been after his disastrous Occlumency lessons with Snape.

I felt his forehead. It was very warm, which was certainly not a good sign.

I tried very hard to recall what my mother had repetitively told me: _When your patient has a very high fever, make him or her drink plenty of fluids, place a cool cloth on his/her forehead to lower his/her temperature, but before all of those, take his/her temperature first._ I didn't have a thermometer, so I couldn't take his temperature, and there was only one way for me to be able to procure a cool cloth. I'd be forced to Summon it from the nearest village.

With a heavy sigh, I whispered, "Accio ice cubes" and "Accio clean cloth" hurriedly, then, with a sinking feeling in my chest that had nothing to do with the fact that one of my best friends was possibly injured badly, I watched the Summoned items rise up into the air and land gently on the grass at my feet. I felt strange. I had broken wizarding law. I had exposed Muggles to magic. I had violated the International code of Wizarding Secrecy. But then, my friend was wounded, perhaps badly. I couldn't be sure.

I wrapped the ice cubes with the clean cloth I had summoned, and placed it on Harry's forehead. Then, checking that he was fine, other than having been knocked unconscious by no less than 9 stunners straight to the chest, or anywhere near it, I joined the fight.

The new boy had somehow got his sword back, but that was quite impossible. I didn't know how he did it, because his bronze sword was at least four yards away, a fair distance, and though I knew fighting his opponents would have prevented him from diving for it, I didn't dwell on the thought. I had my enemies to face and beat.

I put a Disillusionment Charm on myself and watched my body disappear. Then I joined the boys.

The feeling of being able to fight in a battle was wondrous. I brandished my wand (not caring that it could be seen) and shot a Stunning spell at the man in front of me, and he toppled over, not knowing who had hit him. Shooting a Full-Body Bind curse at the man nearest him, I marched on, not looking back at the man I had just attacked and saving Ron from the hooded figure who was attempting to Stun him. He whirled around and saw my wand floating in midair, realizing what was happening, who was behind it, and yelled.

"HERMIONE! YOU STAY OUT OF THIS BATTLE THIS INSTANT-"

Ron's voice was drowned by the man behind him yelling, "AVADA KED-"

Instantly, I shrieked out in alarm and Stunned the man before he could finish the spell. Ron looked confused for a moment, and then he grinned.

"Nice one."

And with that, he turned away, continuing to fight. I sighed, and pointed my wand at the hooded figure preparing to cast the new boy.

"STUPEFY!"

He toppled to the ground, not knowing who had attacked him. But the only one left, the meanest-looking one of all, Stunned the new boy, who fell to the ground with a dull _thump_. And then it hit me. These people were Death Eaters stationed in the Burrow. They were instructed to kill us, not Harry. And they'd stop at nothing to snatch Harry out of our hands.

The shock of finally understanding what was in store for Harry froze me in place. I thought that it was shock making my legs unable to move, but realized, as my eyes traveled to Ron, that both of us had been hit by the Full Body-Bind Curse, so that the lone Death Eater on his feet (whom I suspected might be Antonin Dolohov) could come and collect Harry.

My eyes could only watch as one of my best friends, together with the Death Eater, Side-Disapparated, unconsciously. I couldn't even scream, because my jaws were locked tight together. I couldn't reach out my hands to try to pull him back, because they were paralyzed like stone.

It felt like hours, but finally I could move.

Ron and I collapsed at the ground, me sobbing, he cursing. The new boy was still unconscious.

Finally, Ron ended his series of curses-some of which were new to me-and spoke to me. "You don't think that-that Harry's in big trouble, right?" His voice was slightly hoarse.

I couldn't answer him. My tears prevented me from opening my mouth and forcing out a reply.

"C'mon, Hermione. Let's wake the new bloke up and Disapparate to Malfoy Manor, I heard my attacker yell that they were due there today. Why-what's wrong with my plan?" he asked, because at the mention of Malfoy Manor, I shook my head.

"We have to wait for the new boy to wake up," I said.

"Just point your wand at him and say _Rennervate._ Come on now, Hermione, you can't possibly care for that guy more than you do for Harry, right?"

"No! Let him rest!" I began, but Ron interrupted me, as he always does.

"Do you know what's in store for Harry? With You-Know-Who out to kill Harry? We'll only have hours left to save him!"

I couldn't argue with him, so I took my wand out, (I had placed it inside my pocket subconsciously) pointed it at the new boy's chest, and whispered "Rennervate." His eyes opened slowly, slightly unfocused. His green eyes were almost like Harry's, but this new boy looked like he was born a warrior.

"Where's that guy?" he asked us.

Tears filled my eyes, and I turned away, hearing Ron's low voice telling the new boy about what awaited Harry. I couldn't bear the truth, because somewhere in England or Scotland, I knew that Harry Potter was being held prisoner.

"So, let's Apparate towards Malfoy Manor. Should take us only a couple of seconds to get there. C'mon," Ron ended, offering his arm for the new boy to take, about the first good thing he had done for the newcomer.

"What's your name again?" I asked.

"Percy Jackson," he muttered, dropping his gaze and pretending to be interested in a gnome, which was peeking at him beside a bush at his feet.

"Percy-like my brother," mumbled Ron.

"What?" asked the new boy I had now come to know as Percy. "What-you have a brother named Percy?"

"Never you mind," said Ron roughly. "Are we going to the manor or not?"

"Of course," we echoed, "we're going."

And, grasping each other's hands, we Disapparated and spun into darkness once more.

Nothing – no one noticed us as we materialized out of thin air. We landed behind two large trees that were more than enough able to hide us all, even the two boys with me, who were so tall I felt like a dwarf next to them.

"Right, so we sneak out of here and try to rescue Harry. You, Percy, you take this." Ron thrust a sharp rock to him, which Percy caught, looking stunned at his stupid-looking weapon. "Oh yeah, I forgot your sword," said Ron absentmindedly. "Give it back to me, then."

"Where's the Invisibility Cloak?" I asked Ron.

"In your beaded bag, remember?"

I took my beaded bag, which I had stuffed inside my pockets, and opened it. Not bothering to grope around for the Cloak, I Summoned it and took it.

"Wow! Does it really make you invisible?"

I had forgotten that Percy was there, and that he didn't know much about our world. He was looking at the Cloak with fervent admiration. I nodded, and pulled it over ourselves. Since we were sitting down, every part of our bodies was covered by the cloak.

"Okay, so let's creep towards the manor, and mind you keep quiet or we'll most certainly die."

"Is that likely?" asked Percy, raising his eyebrows.

"Not really. Hermione likes to exaggerate a bit." Ron grinned at Percy.

"RON!"

"Okay, okay. So let's stay silent and make up another plan if our first plan fails along the way. Percy, you bring up the rear. I'll be in front, and Hermione, you stay between us. Any objections?" We didn't bring up any.

We shuffled as silently as we could, the three of us stooping in order for our feet not to be seen. Ron lit his wand, and I did, too. Percy took his sword (which, he had explained, always returned to his pocket, even when he lost it) and lifted it, casting a bronze glow on us. Together, we made a good team, I thought dryly.

We crept towards the garden, from which we heard a good deal of noise. What I saw made me feel faintly sick.

Harry was being dragged, blood staining the front of his robes, by none other than Fenrir Greyback. He looked rather older, his face more heavily lined and his hair resembling that of an old man's. I recalled Harry describing him as "that bloke who bit Lupin", and knew Lupin had described him as "probably the most savage werewolf alive in the world today." If those were true, then Harry was in trouble.

I was about to whisper to Ron that we needed a backup plan, when he silenced me with a wave of his hand, nonverbally casting the Silencing charm on Percy and I.

"It's been what, ten years since the Dark Lord vanished, and we haven't found a trace of him at all. Are you sure, Selywn, that he will return to us?"

"Yes, yes, I am. Are you not, Travers?"

Ron looked ashen-faced at this. "So these people are Death Eaters. But why are they talking about Voldemort vanishing ten years ago? I thought he was in control of everything in Britain?"

I couldn't answer him, as he had just silenced me, so I just shrugged my shoulders-normally what a boy would have done.

"Oh, yeah, sorry about the ruddy Silencing charm." And with a flick of his wand, he removed the charm from us.

Percy interrupted us. "So what?" he asked, not quite bothering to keep his voice down. Suddenly, everything – even the birds – was quite quiet. I held my breath.

"I heard something, I swear! I think it's Potter's friends!"

"Your ears haven't been right since that we blew up that old warehouse at Dufftown, Yaxley. Or is it your old age that's getting to you?"

"I'll prove myself right, Avery. _Homenum Revelio!"_

I had that odd sensation again that something-most probably an eagle- was swooping low over us, and I looked up, feeling my body immersed in shadow. Yaxley gave a yell of glee and turned towards his fellow Death Eaters.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" he bellowed. "Attack them!"

And with that, all hell broke loose.

"PROTEGO!" I cried out instinctively, and instantly a shield appeared in front of us, deflecting spells, but I knew it wouldn't stop them from coming at us. I heard Ron do the same, and felt a little braver.

We charged, together. I had to remove my Shield Charm over us and cast another one around myself, for me to be able to move forward. I hoped Ron was thinking about casting one on himself and Percy. The Death Eater I thought was Antonin Dolohov made the same slashing movement he had done to me years ago, but it was repelled by my Shield Charm, and it backfired on him, hitting him straight in the chest, and he fell over, unmoving and unconscious. I didn't stop to see if he was alive.

"RON!" I bellowed. That gave time for a Death Eater – possibly Avery, though his face was in shadow, so I couldn't be sure – to try to aim a spell at him, but I shot a Full Body-Bind at him, and he went down, as had so many of his comrades.

Percy fought like a hero. He deflected curses with his sword, which when hit made the spells bounce back harmlessly. I didn't realize his Celestial Bronze sword (which he had told us about) could do that.

The Death Eater fighting him was a hooded figure wearing robes of purest black, and his hood fell back as Percy was fighting him. He was Rodolphus Lestrange, husband of the late Bellatrix Lestrange, who had once tried to kill me.

"WHERE IS BELLATRIX?" he screamed, pointing his wand at Percy. Percy raised an eyebrow and answered him, somehow sarcastically.

"Well, I don't know who she is, but isn't she the lover of that vampire with sparkly skin? Sorry dude, but you do NOT look like that guy. What was his name? Edmund? Annabeth hates that series so much; she tells me a million reasons why it sucks. Okay, judging from the look on your face, she is NOT Bella-whatever-her-name-really-is. Hey, hey – no need to be violent!" he added, as Rodolphus let out a roar that could be heard by us duelers and flicked his wand towards Percy, conjuring a silver sword and attempting to put it past his sword and into his body. He deflected it easily, though.

"Wow, dude, you are seriously someone who has anger issues. Calm down, man."

Rodolphus looked far from pleased.

"DON'T YOU DARE INSULT MY WIFE!" he screamed again, his face looking like a fierce lion. Percy drew back, looking apprehensive.

"Okay, I didn't know she was your wife – no kidding with the past tense; you look like you've just killed her – hey, I was joking!" he yelled desperately as a jet of green light flew past his head and set the tree it hit on fire. Percy raised an arm, and closed his eyes, during which Rodolphus miraculously didn't try to fight him, and suddenly the water in the pond nearby rose, and seemed to douse the tree on fir, until the fire died out.

"PERCY!" I screamed, fear dripping into my voice. "He was aiming to kill you! Don't just stand there! Move!"

He dived out of the way just as another jet of green light hit the brush beside him, narrowly missing him.

I cast a Disillusionment Charm on Percy, so that he turned nearly invisible. I was about to do the same with Ron, but he was nowhere to be seen, and I had no choice but to move on.

Quite conveniently, I chose that time to turn back to my opponent, one of whom was pointing at Ron, who had reappeared suddenly, and, from the looks on their faces, looked ready to kill him. I whispered _Diffindo,_ pointing my wand at his wand, which snapped into two, having been severed by my Severing charm. He bellowed in rage, but I had the Invisibility Cloak on myself, the two boys having dived out of it to fight our enemies bravely, and leaving me there, struggling to remove my own Shield Charm before going into battle.

I didn't care if he saw me or not. I had spotted Harry lying far from the battlefield, where so many had fallen, and he was flanked by Greyback, Nott, Scabior the former Snatcher, Crabbe Sr., and Goyle Sr.,. How we had escaped the Death Eaters in the coffee shop in Tottenham Court Road, I still remembered. However, Greyback interrupted my train of thoughts.

"He's stubborn, Potter is. Won't answer to anything I ask him. Of course, that was before the dose of pain."

"So he was awake, then? Or did you use the Rennervate spell on him?"

"Y' all know how I act. Surely you know what I must have done?"

I caught my breath. Greyback spoke of torturing Harry in a seemingly offhand way. Harry had been awake, but somehow had fallen unconscious again, possibly due to his new injuries.

In the moment, though, I had more pressing things to worry about. He looked white as a sheet, and his breaths were shallow and irregular. There was a pool of blood beside him, and I was certain that blood was continually staining the front of his robes, meaning he had a chest wound. I felt my insides squirming as I imagined what Greyback must have done to him to make him look and behave that way, even when unconscious. Plus, I had no idea on how I would rescue him. Ron and Percy were still back there, fighting off the hordes of Death Eaters intent on killing them, which meant that nobody was there to help me.

I walked away silently, hoping that nobody heard my footsteps or performed the Human- Revealing Spell again. To my surprise, no one ever did.

I crouched behind a rock large enough to cover three people and listened to their conversation intently.

"Dark Lord won't come back," I heard Crabbe say. "Won't tell you how many times I've pressed the bleeding Mark; he didn't come at all."

"No, no, Crabbe, you are being ignorant! Which you are, already, but should have had the sense not to show it in public. The Dark Lord will come back, and this time, though Bellatrix and Snape – the bloody traitor the latter was – are both dead, along with Karkaroff, another traitor, Rosier, and whoever else died for the Dark Lord, we Death Eaters will be rewarded with the best rewards one can truly hope to receive! Of course, you might not receive that one, Crabbe, considering your attitude. Carry on with that, and woe be gone you when the Dark Lord returns."

"He won't be able to kill any of my family; they're all dead. The Dark Lord won't be able to carry on without us."

"How about your wife, Crabbe? You murdered her?"

"She was being disobedient." Crabbe growled.

"D' ya hear me complainin'? Didn't , ah, know your wife. Y' all know I'm a new Death Eater."

"Shut up, Scabior. You're not new. It's been, what, ten years since you've been branded with the bleeding Mark?"

"Merlin's socks," muttered Scabior, but otherwise remained silent.

"You, Greyback, why don't we revive out dear little friend here?" Nott asked.

He didn't wait for an answer, whipping out his wand and muttering the spell he was planning on using on Harry before I could react. Within seconds, my best friend was awake. _At least he isn't really hurt,_ I thought.

"Vermin, where's the Dark Lord?"

I risked a glance at him. Even from this distance, I could see Harry's eyes, which were slightly unfocused and bleary. I was worried a bit about my safety, knowing that the Death Eaters could overpower me within seconds. Then I remembered I was invisible.

"I don't know," he said heatedly.

Goyle was staring at Greyback, asking for a solution. Greyback, however, smiled.

"Perhaps another dose of pain? CRUCIO!"

Harry writhed on the ground, biting his lip hard so as not to scream. Somehow, I felt that he had sensed me looking at him, and decided to try not to worry me and not give the Death Eaters the satisfaction of torturing him. The sight of him being tortured like that, and still acting brave, sickened me. I was about to charge into battle when a voice behind me said, "Going somewhere?"

I turned around. "Who are you?" I didn't see anyone at all.

"Surely you know me?"

Now I recognized him. It was Percy, all right, and he was under the Disillusionment Charm.

"Where's Ron?"

"Still there. I think he's unconscious."

"Well then, why did you leave him there?"

"I wanted to help you, but never mind then. Hey, who's making all this noise?" he asked, for it seemed as if Harry had finally cracked and screamed for the pain to stop. Suddenly, he made a sound of disgust and horror.

"We have to help him," he said to me urgently. I nodded my head frantically, then realized he couldn't see me. "Get under the Cloak. We need a plan – quickly." He got under the Cloak as I had requested, and I saw that his face bore an expression similar to a person witnessing a murder before his very eyes.

I whispered to him my plan, and he agreed. "But wait, I don't know how he sounds like–"

"Here. Drink this." I thrust at him a bottle that I had got from my bag.

"What's this?"

"Fred's and George's Voice-Changing Elixirs. I think I have to tap your throat with my wand and say, 'Voldemort'."

"Okay, okay."

He drank it, and I watched nervously as he did, shuddering.

"What does it taste like?"

"Never mind. So do I sound like Voldemort?"

He did. His voice had become high and cold, just like Voldemort. The only danger was that he might slip an American term and ruin the whole "Voldemort" plan.

"Now get ready. When I say go–" I murmured.

The Death Eaters were still torturing Harry. The sound of his screams drove me forward. I looked at Percy, and somehow I felt that he was looking at me back, even when I couldn't see him.

Then I whispered, "Go!" and felt him slip out from underneath the Cloak.

"_Death Eaters, stop_."

The effect was instantaneous. Greyback stopped torturing Harry, looking around for the source of Voldemort's voice wildly. Nott looked bewildered.

"Where are you, my Lord?"

"_I choose not to reveal myself to you, my faithless Death Eaters. Do you have any objections, deluded ones?"_

_"_No, no, my Lord. We only seek to appease you."

"_Please me by turning your backs on the boy. Haven't I told you that I, and only I, shall be the one who will lay a finger on him? Or have you forgotten the things I have told you in the years since our last meeting?"_

"My Lord, we haven't forgotten anything, my Lord, please forgive us for anything we have done wrong!"

"_Be quiet_," Percy hissed venomously, still imitating Voldemort, for Nott's voice had risen to a scream. "_Turn away from the boy. Close your eyes."_

They did as he asked them to do, turning away from Harry, who was unconscious once more, and closed their eyes.

Nonverbally, I cast the Stunning Spell at each of them, Nott first, then Greyback, then Crabbe Sr., then Scabior, then finally Goyle Sr., who was easily the stupidest. He leapt foolishly and tried to look for the person who had Stunned his companions before my silent Stunning spell hit him in the chest. He fell and hit the ground.

"Where are you?" I screamed, scanning the surroundings for Percy.

"Over here," he called back, some thirty yards away from me, on my right side. I removed the Disillusionment Charm I had placed on him, and he reappeared. "Help me carry Harry."

It turned out that carrying Harry was a piece of cake, or at least it was, because Percy helped me to. He didn't weigh as much as most boys did, and I saw Percy looking surprised at the new piece of information. Together, we carried him towards the battlefield.

Ron was just beginning to wake up. Lying on the ground, with a few cuts on his face, nothing worse, he groaned, and opened his eyes when we got to him. "Did you get Harry?" he muttered, clutching his chest as he spoke, and grimacing slightly.

I caught sight of his chest, and immediately felt nauseated. There was a wound there that _definitely_ needed healing. I hadn't noticed it at all until he had clutched his chest.

"Ron, stay with me!" I shouted, because Ron's eyes were closing, and his breaths were shallow. His face was devoid of color, which greatly worried me. I knelt at his side and unbuttoned his shirt. The sight which greeted me made me gasp.

There was a deep wound in his chest, right where his right lung was. My hands were trembling and my eyes starting to wet, but I tried to maintain a calm demeanor as I opened my beaded bag and Summoned the bottle I had labeled as "Essence of Dittany". I took a Healer's kit from it and cleaned the wound.

After cleaning it, I opened the bottle and poured some of the dittany on it, seeing it close immediately, and turned my attention to Harry, whose face was surpassing white and turning gray.

It turned out he had the same wounds as Ron did, but in his case, it was much worse, since his wounds were closer to the heart than Ron's were, and just as deep, too, so that might have caused some internal damage. However, I was no Muggle doctor nor anything like Madam Pomfrey, so I could only clean the wound and pour essence of dittany on it, watching the skin regrow and practically close the wound.

It was silent for a while. Percy had watched me heal the boys, not making a sound at all until I had finished.

"Don't you think that we should protect ourselves?"

"Oh, right. _Salvio Hexia, Cave Iminicum, Protego Totalum, Muffliato, Repello Muggletum_ –" My voice trailed on.

"Thanks for the reminder. You were a good fighter back there," I said, and turned my back on him.

I got the tent out of my bag, and erected it. I lifted the boys into their bunks by using a Hover Charm, and finally embraced my tiredness.

"Could you take first watch?" I asked Percy. He nodded.

"Wake me up if Harry and Ron will wake up already, will you, Percy?" I asked him.

"Yes," he replied.

Then I sank into my bed, my pillows waiting for me, and I slept, oblivious to whatever was happening around me, and sinking into my sweet dreams.


	3. III : Annabeth

**Sorry for the super late update! I was...a little busy! **

**At least this is long - 5,190 words! **

My head was throbbing. My arms and legs felt too long for my body. I regained consciousness.

I was sprawled on the ground, and my head really did hurt. I felt something hard under my head. Touching it, I felt it and decided I had hit my head on a rock, which had briefly made me unconscious. I scrambled up to my feet, and looked for Percy. I was going to kill him for allowing me to pass out.

Then I happened to look at the bench in which we had been sitting in. I recognized the place I had been sitting on, but where Percy occupied earlier was now occupied by fallen leaves. It was autumn, but for once, I didn't care.

"PERCY!" I screamed, which earned me glares from people in Central Park. I covered my mouth, embarrassed. I'd forgotten that we weren't alone.

I didn't get why he'd leave me. I remembered me saying that he ought to stop craning his neck, as if looking for someone. I had punched him in the shoulder, but he hadn't bothered saying anything, which had irritated me. I was up to my feet in no time, constantly vigilant for anything that was unusual. I didn't know what was up.

The Titan War was over, and the gods were being themselves. So who could have taken him?

I took a coin out of my pocket. This wasn't just any regular old coin. It was a golden drachma, an Ancient Greek coin. I flipped it and threw it to the road, running towards it as fast as I could.

_Stethi, _I shouted. _O harma diaboles!_

I stood and watched as a gray taxi materialized in front of me. The people around me didn't pay any attention to me at all. They just continued slurping down their milkshakes, enjoying their sundaes, and making out, completely oblivious to the gray taxi that seriously _did not_ belong here. I wasn't too bothered by it, to be honest.

I got in, and the lady driving – I wasn't sure if it was Anger or Tempest or Wasp; they all looked the same to me, except that the driver had the eye – screeched, "Where too, demigod?"

"CAMP HALF-BLOOD!" I yelled automatically, because that was where I wanted to go. The sister nearest me – I think it was Tempest – screamed at her sister.

"Anger! Give me the coin; I want to bite it again!"

"No! You bit it already; give it to me!"

"You don't have the tooth, you old hag! Give it to me!"

Anger and Tempest fought, while Wasp drove on. I tried to ignore them, because I had other pressing problems to worry about. Then I had an idea. It was a crazy one, but I didn't have an idea as to where Percy was. He could be in danger, or he could be dying, or both. I had to try.

Tempest and Anger didn't even notice when I took the tooth away from Tempest's mouth. Okay, maybe they did notice. She screamed at her sister, apparently under the impression that she had managed to yank it off her mouth and use it to bite my drachma. Ewww. But I was really in a hurry, and I didn't mind at all if they fought on, not caring what was happening around them.

Without warning, I took Wasp's eye from her. "I CAN'T SEE!" Wasp wailed.

"Tell me where Percy Jackson is," I said, trying to look and sound brave. The truth was, I felt completely the opposite of brave, but I tried not to make that too obvious. "Or I'll throw this eye and tooth away."

"We'll crash!"

"Never mind, just listen to me. Left!" I added, as a car headed straight for us and we swerved to the left, narrowly missing it. "Where is he?"

"Don't know!" Wasp screamed. "Anger, Tempest, the girl's got the tooth and eye!"

They both turned to me, and I felt slightly guilty and afraid. But I had to continue doing this, or I'd never find my boyfriend.

"Tell me, or I'll throw it!" I threatened. "I'm rolling down the windows! One–two–"

"All right!" Anger screamed. "He's with them! The ones who are hunting for the things that will help defeat their enemy!"

I didn't understand it, but I memorized it. Information never hurt you, unless it was the truth. "Turn right and tell me more."

"No contact! Not allowed to tell!"

"I'm really going to throw these," I said, my tone dangerous as it could be.

"FINE! He met time-travelers! Use sticks for weapons! Now give the eye to me, or we'll all die!" Wasp screamed. I thrust the eye at her, and she placed it inside her empty eye socket. Gross.

"Whoah!" she yelled, stomping on the brake just in time for us to glimpse the motorcycle that we had narrowly avoided colliding with. "LONG ISLAND DEAD AHEAD!" she screamed at me. I took that as an indication for me to get out of the cab. As I slammed the door of the taxi, I could almost hear the Gray Sisters sigh, as if they were relieved to see the last of me.

I ran towards the pine tree on top of the hill in the distance, not caring that I was maybe 20 km away from it.

No one was in sight, and yet I continued to glance around me as I continued, and finally reached the foot of the hill. I continued running, all the while thinking about what the Gray Sisters had said.

Were they right? Was Percy with some people who had a goal in mind: destroy whoever was trying to destroy them first? And he wasn't particularly in any danger if they used sticks for weapons, right?

Then I remembered something, which the bump on my forehead caused by sliding down the bench and into the ground and hitting a rock (which I think must have caused the temporary memory loss) had made me forget. There was a red-haired guy who had pointed his stick and shouted out a string of words that I didn't fully comprehend and made me feel annoyed, but the next thing I knew, I was slipping into unconsciousness and I heard voices, but only through the haze of drowsiness, which made the words incoherent. But I was pretty sure I'd heard the names Ron and Harry,

I didn't know who those were, and didn't care. All I wanted back was my Percy.

I knew Chiron would be surprised, because I had told him I would be going out for a while, and wouldn't be coming back until the sun set. But I had to see him, or try to.

I hadn't realized that I was already very near Thalia's pine tree until I hit it, hard, on my forehead. I clutched my forehead, and hearing odd sounds, I looked up.

Peleus the dragon was staring at me. Apparently, he remembered me as the demigod who always went in and out, so he didn't attack me or anything, which was a huge relief, as I really did not need any more injuries.

I dashed in, ignoring the wound on my forehead. I hadn't realized that it was gushing blood until one of the Athena kids in the volleyball court saw me as I was passing them, and yelled, "ANNABETH! BLOOD – ON YOUR FOREHEAD – WHAT'S GOING ON?"

His name was probably Austin, one of the newer demigods in our cabin, but nevertheless still one of the oldest at camp. Athena kids seemed to get in here earlier than most demigods would.

"WHERE'S CHIRON?" I shouted at him back.

"IN THE BIG HOUSE," he yelled at me, "but where are you going?"

"LATER!" I shouted, and ran towards the Big House, which was red, as usual, and looked like an ordinary farmhouse, until you saw who lived in it.

Chiron was in wheelchair form, which was weird, and he was asleep, which was even weirder. I felt bad, but I shook him awake.

"What's the matter – Oh, it's you, Annabeth."

"Chiron, I've got to tell you something. It's about Percy."

He had been looking half-awake, but when I mentioned Percy, he immediately paid attention. "Is he hurt? Is he here? Where is he?"

"He vanished and left me behind, Chiron."

"I'm sure Percy would never do that."

"But he just did!"

"Then maybe he didn't want to. Some supernatural force must have kidnapped or taken him away. This matter should be reported straight away to the Olympians. Sometimes I wonder whether or not it is only us, the subjects of Greek Mythology, who exist in this complicated world. I wonder who it is–"

I interrupted him. "You're right, Chiron. Someone took him. Or rather, two boys. But you can't report it to the gods. You know Poseidon; what would he do if he realized Percy was missing? Throw a huge storm tantrum?"

"Maybe you're right, but let us not hurry. For all we know, he might be safe."

I snorted. "Yeah, and everybody's who been kidnapped and tortured have always been safe. In case you're wondering how I got here, I took the Gray Sister's taxi."

"Then why are you sweating so much?"

"Because I ran 20km towards Thalia's pine tree?"

"Yes, well, you have a point, Annabeth. Sit down; you look as if you're ready to pass out any moment. Now tell me," he said, when I had sat down on the chair he was gesturing at, "what exactly happened? I don't really understand; start over."

I took a deep breath, and told him of my story. When I finished, he shook his head.

"Two boys who use sticks for weapons and who, with a single incantation, knocked you out and took Percy away with them? I have no idea who they are. But there is an old legend that exists in this camp, one that concerns the children of Hecate. And their mother."

"What legend?"

"The legend of the wand-carriers. I'm sure you've read a book about them. It's just that you didn't realize they were real."

"Continue with the story," I almost begged him.

"There was this young demigod son of Hecate who was said to have possessed powers none of his siblings had. He could make anything appear, but could not raise the dead. He used a stick that we modern humans, and medieval humans, called a wand, and channeled his magic through it. I do not know how he did it, because nobody, even Circe, Medea, and other famous sorcerers, witches, wizards, or whatever you call them, could do half of what the young demigod son of Hecate could do. Some say he was beloved of the goddess of magic; others say he learned the magical arts himself, without the knowledge or consent of his mother. But, though many things about him were unsure, the one thing people were sure of was that the boy had children, who in turn bore him grandchildren, and his power was passed on to them, and theirs to their descendants, until the whole magical race was born."

"I – don't understand."

"I do not, too, but Annabeth, you must have read all those about medieval witch burnings. Some say the witches were never really evil, that they only used magic when they needed to, and that the drawings of them riding their broomsticks originated from England, where they say the medieval sightings of witches were the most frequent. But most sightings were made-up. I don't know what to believe of this story, except that it doesn't make sense. You could agree with me on that."

"The thing is, Chiron, he might be dying or being tortured or anything that's bad is happening to him! I even think he's fighting, now! So send me wherever you want me to go and look for him! Please!"

He studied me warily. "I know you very well, Annabeth, having been under my care since you were seven. But I do not think that you would be fit for the job to track down Percy. For one thing, you would choose to be alone. And, another thing: you wouldn't stop looking for him even when every evidence we've got will say that he's beyond our help."

I hung my head, disappointed. "But I want to look for him."

"You will stay here," he said, his tone final. "And I suggest you take a nap. You look extremely tired to me."

In my dreams, Percy was with the two boys I had seen, and a girl with bushy hair.

They materialized out of thin air outside a house. I realized, with a start, that it was mine.

Okay, technically, it wasn't mine. It was my dad's. But before I'd left it, he'd asked me to call it _my_ house, _our_ house, not _my dad's house, not the place where my dad lives in._

Then I watched as Percy, the girl, and the two boys were attacked, by about nine men who were armed with wooden sticks. The dark-haired boy, a boy whom I had never met before, but looked a little, okay, more than a little like Percy, was hit by nine beams of red light, straight to the chest, and he fell, his stick (a poor choice of weapon, by the way) fell out of his hand and landed on the grass beside him.

My dream-self started to laugh; this was nothing Percy couldn't handle, but my laugh abruptly turned into a noise of alarm as two, or more, I couldn't really tell, my eyes weren't really working properly anymore, charged towards Percy. But Percy, thank the gods, was ready. Riptide swung towards the men, who avoided it and started yelling words that sounded like spells to me. So Chiron was right, I thought. There really were wizards in this world. I looked at Percy and tried to yell at him to move faster, or the blade would touch him faster than he could say, "Owww?" Thankfully, even if my voice didn't work at all in the dream, he moved away from the man, but, to my horror, was knocked out by a jet of red light that hit him.

Then, to my surprise, the bushy-haired girl, (whom I had not noticed really until now) and the red-haired boy was suddenly immobilized, like they'd been paralyzed or something. I watched as the lone man on his feet collected the unconscious black-haired boy and left Percy, the girl, and the freckled, red-haired boy behind.

I looked around, and suddenly Percy, the girl, and the boy vanished. I was in a black tent outside a grand manor, and three men were conversing inside it, apparently arguing with themselves. The first man, who had a weird, sort of wolfish look on him, and was hairy, spoke.

"Potter, you hear me? Where is the Dark Lord?"

The shapeless mass no sound did it give. The man turned to his companions.

"Let's Cruciate the little whelp, then." Pointing another wooden stick at a shapeless mass on the floor, which I had not noticed before because its dark color blended with the floor perfectly, he smiled evilly.

"CRUCIO!"

The shapeless mass screamed, and I realized with a start that it was a living thing. Then it rolled over, and I saw its face. It was the face of the knocked-out boy, the boy who had dark hair like Percy's, pained green eyes a little like my boyfriend's, and a haunted look around him that suggested this boy had lived through a lot. Instantly, I felt revulsion towards the man carrying the stick that had brought this boy pain, and pity for the boy now thrashing in the ground. He was yelling, causing enough noise that my eardrums felt like they were ready to give up, and pop, any time soon.

Then the torture, which had begun so suddenly, instantly stopped. The boy stopped thrashing around, his body limp, his face twisted in pain. The man and his companions stepped forward.

"You," snarled the torturer. "Now tell me; where is the Dark Lord?"

"I-don't-know," panted the boy, who had several cuts and bruises along his face.

The man nearest the one torturing the black-haired boy spoke. He was middle-aged, I realized, poor, I guess, but with an air of someone who had been handsome, powerful, and wealthy in better times.

"Where is Bellatrix?" he snarled. The boy shook his head. "I-I don't know what you're talking about. Is-isn't Bellatrix wi-with Voldemort?" he asked, his voice wavering, not out of fear, I thought, but out of determined hate for the three men, and pain from his own wounds. The second man looked like he might whip out a stick and utter a single incantation that would snuff out the life of the teenage boy before him.

"Greyback, perhaps a little more?"

The torture started again, and ended quite abruptly, but having done the damage. The boy hadn't screamed, but then his face had turned whiter, and the bones on his face were sticking out more prominently, as were his numerous wounds, and he looked sick. Like, sick _sick_, not disgusting or anything in that sort.

Still, I couldn't help him, no matter what. I tried and tried, but my feet would not move, and my hands were clawing at the air uselessly, trying to reach the boy it knew it would never reach.

The torturer turned his stick on me, and suddenly my insides were on fire. Every part of my body felt like it was being pricked by millions of needles, and I was screaming my head off, wanting Death to claim me, but I knew that Death wasn't that lenient, that everybody had to suffer this pain before they could pass on, before everything could end. But that knowledge didn't help me at all.

"An intruder, eh? A Mudblood, no doubt. They always seem to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or a Muggle."

I spat at him, and I felt his gaze turn to my hair. My golden hair.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

And I vanished. My whole body sort of seized up, and I was floating in a pool of my own blood, with Percy's hand clasped around mine, laughter and cries of _NO! _the last thing I heard.

My eyes opened. I was in my bedroom. My name was Annabeth Chase, girlfriend of Percy Jackson. I normally use a bronze dagger that had been a present from Luke. I was not being tortured, which was a relief.

After getting dressed, brushing my teeth, and combing my hair frantically, using my fingers, I dashed towards the Big House, where I knew Chiron was. I wanted him to tell me everything he could about the so-called wizards.

He was drinking a cup of hot chocolate when I arrived, after a hasty knock at the door and his usual, "Come in," I burst in, and saw that he was still on wheelchair form. Of course. His legs and other parts of his body were still mending, after that stupid Titan War, in which his father (who, by the way, is not someone whom you wanted to have around dinner and discuss with about politics, basketball, baseball, and more basketball) had slammed him to a wall.

"Annabeth." His voice was rather set; he must have known that I was coming. "I think I may know where Percy is."

"Well, I know where he is, too. At least, where he was."

"Where?"

"At my – my father's house in Virginia." I refused to call that place my house, mainly because I still sensed that my stepmother didn't like me and that my little half-brothers were better off without me having to be their "Big Sis" or whatever. At least, that was according to her.

"How do you know that? Tell me everything."

I told him pretty much everything, except for the writhing boy on the ground, clearly in pain, whom I had wanted to help , out of pity more than anything else. I could tell that Chiron was anxious and seemed to know more than he was letting on, because his hands didn't keep to his lap and his brows were furrowed.

The moment I was finished with my story, Chiron looked at me. His eyes were troubled. "Sit down, Annabeth," he said, trying in vain to appear as if he were busy attending to his cup of hot chocolate.

I shook my head. Nothing really good came out of sitting down before talking about something. Bank or business spokespersons and representatives, blah blah blah, told you to sit down before they tell you that you're officially bankrupt, your last issued cheque bounced off, or that your attempt in having a business of your own is a total failure. Doctors always told you to sit down before they suggested something serious was growing inside you, or that it was too late to save someone. I'd seen enough movies to be sure of _that_.

"No," I whispered. "You have bad news."

Chiron sighed, but did not ask me questions. "Fire away," I said, impatience in my voice.

I stood in front of my dad's, and his wife's, house. It was as I'd remembered; the yard was neat and tidy, the windows scrubbed, the flower beds looking as if they'd been stepped on more than a dozen times, and the house itself looking rather new, even when it was time for it to celebrate its third or fourth (I didn't keep track of these things; they were irrelevant and took up a considerable amount of space in my memory, which, being a daughter of Athena, architect of the home of the gods, and daughter of a (crazy) mortal guy who loved airplanes and spent his time forever dreaming about the Civil War and its battlefield, the weapons used and how he could have refined them, and Civil War fighters fighting on pegasi, I could not afford to be full so easily. (Percy had told me of his encounter with my father.)

I cursed myself for thinking about this. After Chiron had refused to tell me anything, I had argued with him, yelling that I deserved to know whatever he was hiding from me, after all I had been through. I did the only thing that was sensible: I decided to go to the place I had loathed. So, when lunch was over, I fished a golden drachma from my pockets and took the Gray Sisters' taxi _again._ The sisters, thankfully, did not seem to recognize me from the two times I had ridden on their Gray taxi before, the last time being just yesterday, with me threatening to toss their one and only eye out into New York's heavy traffic. But since they only served Greater New York and its surrounding communities, I had to board a plane headed towards San Francisco.

Luckily, I had a few thousand dollars that my dad had given me for college tuition, but since college was practically nonexistent in demigod life, I used it for the plane ticket. And the plane took me to San Francisco, where my dad was, where my stepmother was, where my brothers were.

My annoyance with my dad for having married my stepmother partially vanished when he answered the door, me having rung the doorbell and waiting for either of them to appear. His hair was rather disheveled, and his eyes were having trouble focusing on me, which made me think that the loud, ringing noises of the doorbell probably woke him up from his sleep. He looked…vulnerable and tired, dark circles under his eyes. Probably some project he'd been working on needed to be finished on a tight schedule, I thought.

"Who- who are you?" he asked me, failing to stifle his yawn with his hand. I did not answer.

"Annabeth? Is that you?"

I couldn't blame him for not recognizing me. Not really. My appearance had changed a lot since I had last seen him. I was taller, and tanner. My curly blonde hair wasn't tucked into a loose ponytail now, and I wore my camp bead necklace, with a coral pendant in addition to the beads and college ring from the man who was now standing in front of me, and whom I had just woken up.

I stepped inside a little reluctantly. "It's me," I confirmed. I looked at the ceiling as I spoke, an unspeakable question on my lips, but which I could not utter. My dad, thankfully, seemed to realize this.

"Oh, your stepmother? And your brothers? They're vacationing in Hawaii."

"Why didn't you go with them, then?" I asked, too late realizing that I sounded insolent.

My dad, fortunately, was too bedraggled to notice the insolence. He grimaced. "I've been working on a project for the FBI. They employed me."

"Wow, Dad, that's…great," I finished, unsure of what to say. I mean, my dad and I weren't exactly on best terms, but our father-daughter relationship did improve when he rescued me, Thalia, Artemis, (though she probably doesn't want to admit that she needed a mortal man to save her, but then she was in shock) Zoe, and Percy from a horde of monsters, using the weapons I had left in Virginia and molding them into . Well, not so much Zoe, because she died soon after. I never forgot her, and I never will, the fiercely loyal huntress and lieutenant of Artemis.

"Remember that Saudi Arabian man who bombed the World Trade Center complex in Saudi Arabia?"

"You probably mean New York city."

"Oh, oh yes, Annabeth. I feel sleepy. Now, about that, since this man has been eluding capture for nearly a century now…" he yawned again.

"Dad, you mean a decade."

"Oh yes. Now, where was I again?"

"Osama Bin Laden?"

"Yes, yes, the FBI assigned me to build a tracking device. They've found a strand of hair that might have been his, and they want me to actually build a tracking device which uses his hair to track him!" He gazed at me like he was waiting for me to jump up at the news.

I tried to cover up the silence. "Er, yeah, well, Dad, that's great and all, but I've got to ask you something, and then…Thalia's waiting for me in New York," I invented wildly. My lie seemed to have been convincing enough, because my dad nodded once.

"Has Percy been here?" When my dad did not immediately answer, I went on. "He's disappeared, Dad, been gone since yesterday! I haven't been able to find a trace of him. The only thing I remember is that we were in Central Park and Percy and I were holding hands and…" I broke off, blushing madly.

My dad was still too sleepy to notice the red tinge in my cheeks. I realized, embarrassingly and guiltily, how early it must have been, and how I was depriving him of the little sleep he got. I went on. "So, Dad, has Percy been here?"

He nodded once, and said, "That tall young man with the thoughtful green eyes? No, he hasn't."

I bit back a good old Ancient Greek curse. That left me with nothing else to do except wait for him to magically appear in front of me like he could travel through space. Whatever.

This new cause of irritation caused my tone to be sharper than I allowed when I talked to my dad, and it was with poor disguise of my sudden irritation that I answered him.

"Okay, Dad, good-bye. Now get some sleep; I'm going back to New York."

"Good-bye, Annabeth."

As I left, I could hear him muttering, "What a fantastic man he was, that Bin Laden! Well, not so much the killing, but if we created a machine that captured criminals and had the minds of the greatest criminals ever, it would have their cleverness and sneakiness. I would certainly be honored to have a great project like that assigned to me!"

Ugh. My dad. My war-loving, Civil War-fan dad, who loved to make celestial bronze bullets designed to kill monsters upon impact and save his daughter from bloodthirsty monsters who wanted to kill her in his spare time, and spent the rest of his time doodling absently on pieces of paper, lamenting about the fact that he could not create a pegasi-based machine, modeled like a pegasus and able to fly like one. I disliked his like of violence, but I supposed a man ought to have his hobbies.

I sighed, then yelled, "TAXI! TAXI!" again, going to the airport of San Francisco, and determined to find my boyfriend.

I burst into the Big House room wherein Chiron was now polishing his bow and arrow. He did not seem surprised when I told him what I had done.

"Ah, I knew that you would do something like that," was all he said.

I was surprised. Campers weren't normally allowed to go into the real world without express permission from the camp director (a.k.a. Mr. D) or the camp activities director, whom I was now talking to, and who did not seem angry at all, despite the clear violation of camp rules I had made.

His eyes were looking at me, and I didn't like it. It usually meant he had something to say, and I wasn't sure if I could handle bad news now, not when I had spent a considerable amount of money just to go to my dad and ask him if Percy had been there, or was there. Come to think of it, I should probably just have called him, instead of boarding a plane and going there just to ask him a single question, but Percy being gone and all made me feel panicked, and I was always reckless when panicked about Percy.

"Annabeth," he said slowly.

"What?" I asked, unable to keep the annoyance in my voice.

"I think," he said more slowly still, "that I know where Percy is."


	4. IV : Percy

As I watched over the three sleeping wizards and witch, I looked into the night sky, hoping to look for some answers.

I knew, somehow, that Annabeth was looking for me. I knew that, if my hunches were correct, she'd be worried sick, finding no trace of me at all. I knew she was hoping desperately that was okay, and I wanted to be able to tell her that, but I didn't know how I could do it. I mean, seriously, there was the Iris-message option, but how would I be able to make a rainbow in the middle of the night, and besides, as far as I knew, there were no actual rivers or streams in this part of England.

England. I never knew I'd be able to come here, but here I was. I was pretty much still shocked about the fact that, twenty-four hours ago, I was with my girlfriend at Central Park, two normal (well, as normal as demigods can get, anyways) kids in a normal place, mingling with normal people, when the trio of wizards and witch arrived, and that, twenty-four hours ago, I was still Percy Jackson, a demigod who knew all the answers to the FAQs and perks of being a demigod, and nothing else, but now I carried two secrets; the existence of Greek gods and monsters, and the existence of actual wizards who used sticks (I still had trouble calling them wands) to defend themselves against bad guys who annoyed them and called them names.

I watched Hermione as she slept, oblivious to my relentless staring. She was actually quite pretty, but I'm really hoping that Annabeth didn't hear that, because I'd be lucky to be alive after she'd have done with me. And besides, she was nothing on Annabeth. I could tell this red-haired guy had some romantic feelings for her, which explained the over-protectiveness of her and harsh treatment of me just because I sort of fell on her when we landed just after we'd Appeared. (I think that's what Hermione said; I could never concentrate on whatever someone's talking about that much, and since she spoke in a British accent, it was kind of torture to my ears and what Clarisse calls my dimwitted, moronic brain. [but what my mom calls witty, especially when I do my teenage thing {in other words: sort of talk back to her}])

Soon, and not too soon, actually, just when it was really, really dark, Hermione stirred, and woke up.

"Oh," she yawned. Then she realized I was just sitting by the mouth of the tent. "Oh, sorry, didn't realize I'd sleep that long. Go, you can sleep now, Percy."

Hearing my name spoken by her was weird. They'd told me Ron's brother's name was Percy, too, only he was a Weasley, (is that a kind of a weasel? I don't know!) which made sense, since he was Ron's (estranged) brother, pretty much. But I obliged, anyways, crawled into the bed that Hermione had pretty much made out of thin air by somehow duplicating her bed, a feat of which I was not entirely sure of how she had done it, and soon fell asleep.

It seemed like no time had passed to me when I woke up, my brain hazy because of the multiple dreams I had of Annabeth and me kissing. I looked and saw Hermione nodding off in the tent entrance, and immediately felt guilty.

"Hey," I greeted her. "How long has it been since I've slept?"

"Twelve hours? Oh, I don't know."

"You should go to sleep. I can take watch now. By the way, what time is it now?" I asked her as she made her way towards her bed.

"One o'clock."

"In the morning?"

"Afternoon."

"But it's dark outside." Naturally, I had to find something wrong about her observations.

"Storm."

"But it's not windy, and cold."

It came to my senses that Harry, Hermione, and Ron weren't from this time at all. I gulped as it came to my mind on what I should say to her.

"Uh, Hermione?" She gave a little start when I said her name. I tried to imitate the way Ron and Harry said her name, and succeeded. "What date is it today?"

She frowned in concentration. "August 1."

I swallowed. "What year?"

"1997. Why?" she asked, seeing my eyebrows knit together in concentration, a look that would have made everyone question me, especially Annabeth, who knew I had ADHD, had trouble concentrating on things, and did not like to concentrate much on things that just gave me a headache later on.

I wondered if I should tell her. Then again, it was better now or never.

"The thing is, Hermione, it's not – " I broke off.

"What?" she demanded. "It's not – what?"

"Ron's awake," I said, saying _thank-you _to Ron silently for choosing this time to wake up, and pointing towards Ron, who was awake, and looking at us with pained and yet suspicious eyes.

"Ron!" Hermione practically flew across the room to hug him until he groaned. "Geroff me, geroff me, Hermione!" Hermione released him at once. I noticed that her rather bushy hair had sort of enveloped around Ron's face, so it wasn't surprising that he protested, because it must have been itchy or irritating. In some way, I knew Ron loved to be loved, like a kid boasting of his mom liking him best – Mom says I'm her favorite!

"You okay?" I asked Ron, who was eyeing me as though he wanted to punch me into a big bag of jelly beans. Okay, a really big bag of jelly beans. When he didn't answer, still continuing his relentless staring, Hermione piped up.

"Are you feeling okay, Ron?" There was a strange tenderness to her voice now, almost as if he were a small, injured child she was speaking to. It was almost as if they were…in love or something. Hey, I'm not jealous or anything. Right Annabeth? Wherever you are?

"No," he muttered, and in that moment when we looked straight at each other's eyes, I knew he wasn't talking about his physical fitness and wellbeing. Hermione turned to me, her eyes wide and confused, until she saw Ron looking at me with narrowed eyes.

"It's nothing, Ron," she said quickly.

"Yeah?" he asked through gritted teeth. "I don't think so."

He got up so suddenly it was shocking, real anger and something, some unnamed emotion, on his face. He looked at Hermione, who was now looking positively alarmed, and though he swayed slightly, he gave no appearance of a guy who had just very recently had been unconscious a day.

"You can go now, Hermione, go talk to your new friend like you're best friends, and I'm going to leave you two alone, isn't that what you want, Hermione?"

"No," Hermione shrieked. "It's not – not like that, Ron, if you could just let us, I mean, me, explain, it would – "

"Clear things up? Explain what you two were doing? I've had it, Hermione. I know you don't want me around, so I'm leaving."

"Ron, what're you –" Hermione blustered, tears now gushing on her face.

Ron seized his things and sprinted towards the mouth of the tent. I ran to block him, exactly like the idiot Clarisse always said I was, shaking. But I wasn't shaking from fear or anything. I mean, it's not like you run across three teenagers who are supposed to be from the twentieth century and not be surprised, not be shaking like crazy. Because they should probably be married now, or at least, Hermione should probably be. And now I knew where they came from, and it wasn't a really pleasant thought.

"Wait!" I yelled. "Listen, Ron, it was a misunderstanding. Okay, man, I can totally understand if you're angry or jealous of me for talking with your girlfriend, but – "

"Jealous? Who's jealous of you? And Hermione's not my girlfriend, you, you, you –" He was having difficulty trying to find a bad enough name to call me. I laughed silently and mentally, meaning it was all in my mind. Jeez, I should probably have myself tested for possible craziness, side effect of ADHD and dyslexia mashed up together, plus the crazy stuff that I had to deal with, like witches and wizards and wands and spells, when just about a day ago, the world I now knew existed didn't exist. Okay, now I'm starting to sound like Annabeth. I bet she would have been happy to hear that from me.

"Okay, okay, chill'ax, dude, you are seriously the most hot-headed guy I've ever met. Counting Clarisse out, since she's practically not a dude, but counting out the practicalities, she's as much as a dude to me as you are to me. Okay, Ron – "

But Ron, it seemed, had had just about enough. He yelled, "Petrificus Totalus!" and I felt my body freeze, making me drop to the ground like a paralyzed guy. M eyes could only follow him as he stormed out of the tent, Hermione crying for him to stop, and I heard a crack that sounded like someone disappearing magically. (they'd told me about the Disappear thing, but I couldn't remember the name. I mean, I already had Greek Mythology dudes to remember, okay? You can't seriously expect me to remember wizards and spellbooks and everything about magic like a nerd could memorize stuff! Oh, hey, sorry Annabeth?)

It was raining. My body unfroze after a lengthy time, and for a long time I was too bewildered to do anything rather than wait for Hermione. When she did not walk in, I walked out of the tent, hearing a shift in pillows meaning that Harry was now awake, but I didn't turn around. I mean, Harry wasn't like dying, right?

I found her, holding a torn piece of robe that I later realized came from Ron's set of wizard robes. She was sobbing, clutching her face and the one piece of cloth that was a reminder of Ron, a reminder of Ron leaving, a reminder of everything Ron had shouted at her, and me. "He Disapparated," she sobbed.

I felt a little guilty, but I knew I shouldn't have. I mean, seriously, who doesn't get guilty after causing a girl's boyfriend to storm away and disappear? Probably only the most unfeeling people, like some Greek gods I can name, but won't, because if they're reading or listening to this, well, I might as well be the peacock or the wild boar you see in the zoo, gesturing frantically at you to help me contact the Greek god who turned me into an animal and yell for the regular old me to replace the animal it's become. Of course, authorities might dismiss this as a peacock or wild boar gone crazy (does a wild boar really need more craziness in its wild life?) and I'll be stuck as an animal forever, and that god or goddess who changed me will probably laugh about it and party with the nymphs. In the case of the goddess, though, I'm not sure about partying. Maybe go celebrate godly (?) in her royal and pretty much nice room up on Mount Olympus…?

Anyways, whatever Ron was normally, I had a feeling he wasn't normally like this. Something, something bad, was affecting him, his decisions. Probably something from my world, or something from their world, something magical and probably very deadly and dangerous. But I had no time to wonder about that. Amazingly, now, I had a duty; comfort what was left of the broken Hermione.

I wasn't sure whether or not to pat and her and say, "everything's gonna be alright," but if I would say it, it would probably sound fake and cold and wrong. I wasn't meant to be a guidance counselor or something like that, okay? But I could try.

I knelt next to her. "Hermione…" I began, but she broke me off.

"Ron…Ron," she sobbed, her face buried in her hands. I realized what I must do, must have done a while ago, when Ron was still with us, when Ron hadn't left us so quickly and surprisingly it hardly seemed real.

"Hermione, there's something I need to tell you."

The urgency of my voice probably surprised her enough for me to talk more. "The thing is…you don't live in the world you think you live in. Remember about me asking you what date it was? It was to test you. I mean, three teenagers appearing in Central Park and not at all surprised that they were here is really suspicious, at least to me, the American among the Brits," I joked, but when I looked up (I had been staring at the ground) I saw her eyes filling with tears again, and I gave up with the jokes.

"It's 2009, Hermione. Not 1997. That's why I asked you – I wanted to really be sure of it. You've…I don't know, time-traveled or something."

She was silent for a while, tears still splashing down her face, but she was more controlled now. Then she gasped, and her face screwed up like she was about to howl in pain and misery.

"Ron!" she screamed. For a second, I thought he had come back. Then I realized that she had realized what I'd known before she'd known it. "Ron – where – he – Disapparate – to – " Her panic was making her words incomprehensible. "We'll find him, Hermione," I told her, trying to lessen her pain, because I did still feel a little guilty. "We will. But we gotta concentrate on how you got here, in the future."

Three days after that fateful day, I was outside hunting for food, just outside the campsite, looking at the trees and wishing there would be a stupid animal that would run straight towards me, like it was saying, "KILL ME!". But, naturally, following my luck, it didn't happen. Well, _wishing food would appear _might have fitted the description more perfectly, but then again, hunting sounded better and more macho than looking. Looking was like, "Hey, I was looking into your bag yesterday and I found your wallet. It had, like, five grand? Wow, dude, didn't know you were so rich," and, "I was looking into the mirror on my wall yesterday, looking for blemishes on my skin, and I spotted –"

Not necessarily hunting, since swords were actually pretty much out of fashion these days, at least, for the police and youngsters like me, they were. I had volunteered to go look for food, while Harry, who had been healed after Hermione tried on him a variety of spells she called, "Healing spells," and applied some do-it-yourself topical cream or something like that to his wounds, and my stomach was seriously growling for some food to be fed to it, since it had been nearly empty for three solid days. I could have eaten three burgers and still feel hungry now, not to mention with fries and milkshakes. The hunger was all affecting us, but I think Harry looked as if he'd suffered worse, which really made me wonder what had happened to this kid.

Hermione and I were watching the woods one day, while Harry Apparated (I learned the lingo) to the nearest village, to get some food, he said. We weren't expecting him to be back so quickly, but there was a CRACK! that sounded like a bullet shot, and then he staggered into sight, without any of the food he'd been determined to get. Hermione was worried sick about him; she'd argued strongly against the arrangement until her hunger and fatigue won over, and she agreed, very hesitantly, and now she was reaping the award for having agreed to his decision. She'd lost one of her best friends; she didn't need to lose one again, so soon.

He'd told us that he would be back in an hour; instead he came back after three hours, his face white as bone and the dark circles under his eyes that had been there since we'd rescued him somehow showing up more than ever. Hermione had immediately bombarded Harry with a whole lot of questions that would have made my head swim, but Harry refused to answer most of them. All she got out of him was that he'd run into a few beasts and had to curse them with his wand, or he'd have died, and he wouldn't talk more than that. But I had a feeling that he was hiding something from us, something that wasn't fit for normal conversation, and though I knew that Hermione did not suspect anything like that from him, I kept quiet.

Finally, Hermione stood up. She was literally faint with hunger, having nothing to eat for three solid days, but she managed it anyways. In some ways, she was as strong as Annabeth.

"Harry, Percy, come here."

Her voice was not commanding, but pleading. I was surprised. Ever since I'd told her about it, we'd sat (with the healed Harry) together in silence, thinking about the possibilities. And though Harry never said anything about Ron, at least, nothing I heard, I knew he, like Hermione, was hurting, too, but he, unlike Hermione, had accepted the decision of Ron to leave us. We obeyed her.

"Look, I think I have the answer. The answer to our problem." When neither of us responded to her, she continued, in a sort of frenzy to finish her thought. "Listen, I know how we were transported into the future, Harry, I know it!"

"There's a force around us, a force that brought our past selves here and made us think that Voldemort's – oh for heaven's –" She stopped shortly, and I sensed Ron's name. She started again. "that he's back, but he's not. From what I gathered, he's dead, in the year 2009, which is now. But I don't know if we're supposed to be dead, too." Catching sight of Harry's and my confused faces, she looked exasperated. "Okay, something brought us here," she said, speaking more to Harry than she was to me, "something that made us come here, to the present, or for us, the future. That's something! But all I know is that we have to track down that _something_ that brought us here, because if we won't, and we might not be able to, we'll die, within a few days' time. And we have to get Ron and go back to the past. It's the only way."

None of us spoke. I was stunned. Harry looked like this was hardly news to him, like he expected to die any moment and only waited for Hermione to confirm it.

_Seriously, what is wrong with this kid?_ I wanted to shout, but I knew his wand could petrify me completely. (not the Medusa turn-to-stone-and-die paralysis that many knew; but the whole I-can't-move-but-my-eyes-can paralysis, which is so paralyzing I don't really want to experience it again.)

Hermione continued, seemingly oblivious to our less-than-happy expressions on our faces. "I've discovered this much. Maybe we should hatch a plan and try our best, before we die?"

"You make it sound like it's a dragon egg," Harry muttered, and though I didn't understand it at all, Hermione smiled, looking as if it were against her will to even smile a bit.

"Incidentally, Hermione, where did you get this info?" I asked her, while tapping my fingers to my palm.

"I was lying awake one night, and it suddenly seemed to me that we had all the answers with us already; we just needed to know where to look. And that's where it snowballed. With a bit of research…" "A bit?" scoffed Harry, looking down at the huge books beside Hermione. She scowled at him, looking a little more like the Hermione I had heard about. "With a bit of research, I found about this particular legend…legends all have a basis in fact, which means a part of them, or at least the idea or ideas are, or have a skin of truth, no matter how thin or thick the skin is. And I found this – entitled "The Sorcerer's Mischief" and decided to read it. And it just about answered every question I had at time."

"Incidentally," said Harry, echoing my last question, "how did you get hold of the book?" he finished, eyeing the large volume Hermione was now balancing on her knees. Though she had to be dead tired, she managed it, and turning to the page of the mentioned story, she began:

_There was a wizard who was very well-known in Britain for being the greatest wizard of all time, due to his prowess at the magical arts. Naturally, fame came into his head, and he began to dream of it, always seeking a new challenge, defeating the numerous wizards and witches who tried to challenge him became boring to him, almost like a sport. He wanted a new thing to do, and so he set off for the village of Malus, where he heard of a mighty wizard who could bend time and send anyone to any period of time, which everyone couldn't do. When he arrived there, someone attacked him and sent him to the future, where the wizard did not belong to, but he did not realize this. He found strange people looking at him, and he panicked, Muggles following him and brandishing sharp knives at him, but with a wave of his wand, he made them fly back to their owners, and ran for his life._

_In a dark, isolated place, he despaired, thinking about his wife. He looked for her and looked for their children, but it was no use. He tried to go to the village of Malus again, but when he arrived there, wand ready, he found only rubble. The wizard who had sent him there had vanished, leaving no trace of him, and the wizard found himself slowly dying, and one day, his soul left the world._

_In the past, his wife and children were frantic, but they could do nothing for the husband and father who had left them, who had, without their knowledge, passed on. And so the foolish wizard did not realize that by daring to challenge the great wizard of Malus, he would die, because the Lesverage wizard was a servant of Death's, whose only intention was for the people who traveled to different periods of time to die. Thus, the wizard died, without knowing that he had been marked for death, and left his poor wife and children alone forever._

Hermione finished reading the story and looked up, . "Look," she said, as a response to our dumbfounded faces, "it fits perfectly. I mean, Malus is Latin for evil. So, "the village of Malus" would mean "the village of evil," but the wizard didn't realize it. And, it's almost exactly what we're experiencing now, a sense of wrong coupled with a sense of familiarity. Voldemort's not here now, you must have destroyed him in the past, Harry, but since we come from 1997, when Voldemort was still present, we think we're still looking for Horcruxes, but we're not, since we've supposedly destroyed them now. And, we're going to die in a week or two, unless we get to go back to the past, because we aren't meant to be here. The fight is there, not here, and we belong to the fight."

"So we have to find a way to fetch Ron and find the person who sent us three here, and beg or force him or her to send us back to the present, all in a few days' time, because if not, we'll die. Our deaths might not be like the wizard's in the story; which is why I said earlier that not all of this might be true. And we would die, by age, and since I'm the eldest among us three, I'll die first, followed by Ron, then you. It doesn't mention here that if you would die, you'd go back to the past, or if your future self, as in the me, Ron and you, Harry, in the future, which for Percy is the present, now, would also cease to exist." Seeing our confused faces, she gave up, and insisted we make a plan, but I told her that our lack of food prevents us boys from understanding, and she finally violated a Wizarding law that she called, "International Statute of Secrecy" and summoned some food from the nearby villages she and Harry referred to as, "Ottery St. Catchpole," and, for the first time in three days, my hunger was abated. I ate five cupcakes, two slices of bread, and drank three glasses of water. It didn't matter that there were originally only two cupcakes, one slice of bread, and a glass of water on the plate which had zoomed inside the tent, since Hermione just pointed her wand at it, and immediately, they began to increase in quantity, and every time we took something, another one took its place, and we ate rather than talked about our plans as our stomachs were filled for the first time in three days. At last, we were full to bursting, with our stomach now happily digesting the food we had just eaten.

Hermione was first, as usual, to interrupt the silence. "We need to find Ron."

"True," Harry said. "But he's going to be in second priority now."

"Why?" I asked. I was pretty much living to the IGNORANT image of me constructed by the Ares kids. I asked a lot of questions these days, but not those that were like, "Who was that scientist who discovered the first antibiotic again?" or even, "What's the general theory of relativity again?" My questions were usually, "Why?" "Could you like, repeat that, this time more slowly?" "Huh?" It would have made the kids at camp laugh to hear me ask those.

"Because," Hermione interjected, "we've got get into Hogwarts to ask Dumbledore about the things that need to be cleared up. And since we don't have much time left – a week or two?" she asked Harry, who nodded his head, "we'd better get started."

"So when are you going to start?"

They shared a look with each other. "Now."

We were inside Hogwarts now. Hermione whispered for me to stay still, and I watched as she tapped her wand on my face and started muttering incantations which seriously sounded weird to my dyslexic and ADHD ears. In a few minutes, wherein Harry had been able to get a mirror out from nowhere, (I guessed he must have conjured it or something) he gave the mirror to me and I stared at my reflection on the mirror.

My hair was longer, and it was auburn. My nose was longer, and I had a beard. I felt my new beard and whispered, "Awesome" under my breath. But my eyes were still the same sea-green eyes, unchanged and brilliant as ever. I smiled, showing a set of even, white teeth that was totally new to me, because I _didn't_ have even or white teeth.

Walking inside, I stopped the first student I saw. Harry and Hermione had told me how to recognize students, and the badge on the guy's robes confirmed it. Plus, he was a prefect. It was cool and all, but my ADHD and dyslexia took any chance of me ever becoming a prefect. Well, that was stupid of me to think of that.

"Great job," Hermione whispered. They were under the Invisibility Cloak, which made me feel strangely alone. The prefect I had stopped looked curiously at me, and then said, in a British accent, "Who are you?" rather rudely.

I forced a look of surprise on my face. "Look out!" I yelled. (Hermione had decided that, in order to hide my American accent, it was best for me to stick to short sentences.) The prefect turned, and got hit in the face by a silent Stunner. He crumpled to the ground, and as I bent down, I caught sight of the blue badge that was not so visible to the ordinary watcher. It was labeled, "Ravenclaw Prefect Robert Hilliard." _Wise guy, after all_, I thought sarcastically, before hiding in the shadows.

Harry did his part of the plan, which was to lure any people near the headmaster's study, or at least, the gargoyle guarding the spiral staircase leading to it. He, using his wand, conjured a jet of water and directed it to the people who were near the gargoyle, looking apologetic, but his aim was steady. He muttered, "Avis!" and a flock of birds appeared from the tip of his wand, and, muttering a second incantation, "Oppugno!" it shooed the onlookers away, but no one had been clawed by the birds, because of the jet of water. The birds, Hermione explained, didn't really like water, so they avoided sources of it or even places and things with water, including the now wet and screaming students in front of us.

I grinned, and watched as the professors and headmaster appeared on the scene, and seeing the unconscious boy on the floor, apparently all by himself, they carried him via stretcher to, no doubt, some kind of hospital they had here. Like a nurse's office, for sick or wounded students and teachers.

I took the risk of peeking out from my hideout place, and paid the price. One of the teachers who had remained had spotted me. In a second, Harry and Hermione pulled me with them, thrusting me the Cloak and enveloping the three of us with it. We were now running so hard, aiming to reach the gate, and as we passed through it, I felt us spin and vanish, the usual choking feeling of Apparition vanishing as we landed.

"Where – where are we?" I spluttered to Hermione, who was on her feet and casting spells everywhere. "_Salvio Hexia, Cave Iminicum, Muffliato, Repello Muggletum, Protego Totallum – " _It was a moment before I realized that she was annoyed, possibly with me.

It was Harry who answered me. "Ottery St. Catchpole. Or at least, near to it."

I was confused. Why return to our old campsite when there were many places where we could go to and stay for one night? And before I knew it, Harry was looking at me with annoyance in his eyes.

"You could have saved your peek for later," he said, and it took me a little while to remember what had happened, and realize what he was talking about.

"I – uh, I'm sorry…"

I trailed off, as Harry and Hermione were both not looking at me. It made me feel so angry to be ignored like I was now, that I walked away, away from them, and outside the tent. I was too annoyed now. Part of being an ADHD kid meant that I seriously did not like being ignored like I was something that was boring. And that meant that, with them ignoring me like that, I was pretty annoyed.

I stared at the ground, and waited for a miracle to happen. Nothing. Hermione didn't even call me back.

I walked away, away from the tent now, and sat down on a huge, flat rock that was just near me. There, I closed my eyes, and reflected on what I had done.

I had ruined our plan. Our plan, which we had been working on for twelve hours straight, had failed, because of me. Well, not really. But probably. My little peek had probably brought the plan down, caused it to fail. I felt –

But my thoughts were interrupted when, suddenly, without warning, something flew towards me and hugged me so tightly that I couldn't breathe. Gasping for breath, I tried to face my attacker, but her/she pressed his/her lips to mine, making me desperate for breathing. Every demigod part of mine was screaming that this was all wrong, that this person was an enemy.

Instantly, I pinned the attacker, whose face I couldn't see, to the ground. It was dark, from where we were, and not until I focused more on the face of my attacker did I realize who it was.

The tangled blond hair, the orange shirt, the shocked gray eyes, so beautiful and familiar, cut through my feeling of shock.

I had thought that she was a danger to me, to us; that's why I'd attacked her. But I was wrong, had been wrong.

"Annabeth?"


	5. Letter To Readers

**This is a very important message; please read!**

**To all my dear readers and supporters:**

**I am deeply thankful for all the support and encouragement you've given me, but I am also very sorry to say that The Half-Blood will be discontinued here on Fanfiction, for reasons which have been revealed on my profile. You may still read future chapters on Wattpad; search for it and there you go!**

**For some reason, I did not post this Author's Note sooner because I thought you guys would think I was quitting. Then, when I saw the many followers and favorites, I was honestly astonished. Hadn't I made myself clear in my profile? Then I realized the problem; you guys had READ THE STORY, not MY PROFILE, where details of my quitting writing this story here on Fanfiction was. So now this is just like a farewell to you; I won't be posting any more chapters for The Half-Blood here! Again, I am on Wattpad, so send me a personal message if you want to contact me, or if you want me to actually send the chapter itself to you. I will do it, of course, but I will never post it here on Fanfiction. In the unlikely event of someone posting the chapter I wrote and sent to them at their request; be forewarned; I will never send anyone the future chapters again. Guys, that would be PLAGIARISM, and please, please, please, don't do that. It isn't worth the trouble.**

**The thing is, I'm not posting any chapters for this story on Fanfiction, and not on Wattpad, because you guys, please understand the effort it took to write 19,537 words (excluding this "chapter") and the difficult task of combining characters from two different series into one crossover story. It's actually very difficult, you know, and I know most of you don't write, or if you do, you write sole fanfiction, not crossover stories. Try writing crossovers. You'll find it's extremely challenging. **

**Now, a lot of people have been voicing out concerns that Ron is OOC, (out of character) or that he is nothing like the Ron from the Harry Potter books. Some ask me why I said Harry and Percy are similar, at least in physical appearance. But the truth is, they are, except that Percy's skin is tan, and Harry's is probably a lighter tan, but J. Rowling hasn't been talking about the color and appearance about his skin, only his height and very messy hair, so we can't be sure about that! Both of them are tall, (yes, Harry IS tall, though shorter than Ron) have green eyes, (fine, Harry has startlingly, brilliantly green and bright almond-shaped eyes, and Percy has sea-green eyes, but the colors are only shades apart and very similar to each other) have untidy black hair, (I think both of theirs' are perpetually messy, but that Harry's sticks up in the back; there hasn't been any mention of Percy's hair sticking up in the back) and are almost of the same age. (ALMOST - Harry's seventeen, turning eighteen in July, while Percy's turning seventeen in August.) Plus, their personalities are quite similar. In my opinion, if Harry were a demigod, I'd bet his fatal flaw would be the same as Percy's. And both of them are actually funny in a dry, sarcastic way.**

**But I haven't even revealed the reason why I presented Ron as that. I believe that we fanfiction writers are free to write our own stories about the characters in a book we love. We all think of Ron as funny and sarcastic; it's because the books are mainly in Harry's perspective, and he likes Ron as his best friend, so he probably tends to ignore the negative attitude of Ron. Remember all the times when he snapped at people, like Luna. I am telling the story in the way I want to tell it, which means I want people outside the Trio to describe what it feels like to have Ron snap at you. And Ron's remarks are half the time hurtful and yet somewhat darkly funny, actually. I was trying to describe his character from someone other than Hermione, Harry, and his family's viewpoint, and Percy seemed like the perfect guy for the job.**

**The thing is, Percy has had a lot of trouble in his life. Contrary to some of your beliefs, he wasn't scared of Ron, but he knew that the moment he accidentally slammed into Hermione when they landed after Disapparating from Central Park in the first chapter resulted in Ron thinking that Percy purposely did it so he could probably kiss her, and you know Ron, he likes Hermione and all, so that made him feel jealous of Ron wants to admit it or not, Percy's a handsome guy. (but Ron's not to be ignored, too!) And all of us know Hermione's rather obvious weakness for HANDSOME guys. So in this story, or at least, before Ron (spoiler alert if you haven't read chapter 4 yet!) left them, he acted unusually aggressive towards Percy. Also, when he woke up after Hermione tended to his injuries, he saw Percy and Hermione talking to each other. He might have thought that Percy was making a move on his girl. Remember, Annabeth didn't appear until he left, which means Ron didn't have a chance to know that Percy already had a girlfriend whom he really likes. **

**I'm actually very disappointed not to be able to finish this story here on Fanfiction, but then what good is it if I continue writing, only to receive more criticism that includes some questions about my sanity and eyesight? I had been planning to write this story thread by thread, which means I would have overseen it carefully and written well.  
**

**And I can't just change four chapters because, according to some, I'm making the characters REALLY OOC, right? Well, in my opinion, I'm not, but if you guys think that, then fine. No updates for this story here. E-v-e-r. And that's final. I will only be sending the contents of the future chapters to you in a personal message, if you want to receive them. **

**Now I know some of you might be grumbling and backbiting me in secret, but the thing is, I honestly don't really care much about that. I know already that I can't please everybody, so yeah...**

**Again, PM me if you have any questions, and I promise you I'll answer it as soon as I can! I hope you understand me! **

**Now I have a new story out, entitled, "Black, White, and Gray." It's a fanfiction full of Will Herondale and Tessa Gray, characters from Cassandra Clare's bestselling trilogy The Infernal Devices. Go check it out if you want to read it. (but I'm not advertising or promoting the story; I'm only informing other fans of the trilogy.)**

**And, to those who read my version of The House of Hades, expect an update sometime in June, perhaps the first-to-second week. (I'm not making promises I can't make, though.) **


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